


Permanent Markings

by stephrc79



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, TRYPANOPHOBIA (fear of needles)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/pseuds/stephrc79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this <a href="http://stephrc79.tumblr.com/post/86697713494/reclusiveq-i-want-bucky-to-get-a-tattoo-that">post</a> on Tumblr:</p><p><a href="http://reclusiveq.tumblr.com">reclusiveq</a>:</p><p>I want Bucky to get a tattoo that honors the howling commandos without telling Steve. Something he found in one of Steve’s sketchbooks and took to the tattoo parlour, then later Steve sees it and gets all emotional and decides to get a matching one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permanent Markings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reclusiveq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reclusiveq/gifts).



It originally had been Dum Dum’s idea.

They’d taken down a particularly nasty HYDRA syndicate that day. At one point there had been a tank and an explosives pack, and if Steve had been anyone else, he’d wouldn’t have been sitting here with the rest of the Howling Commandos.

They’d gone out to celebrate in their normal fashion — a bar, some beers, maybe a couple of dames — and somewhere around the third or fourth round, Dum Dum had declared, “Tattoos!”

The rest of the squad barely broke conversation — they were used to Dum Dum’s random outbursts — but Bucky couldn’t help laughing as he watched Steve’s hand slowly inch towards Dum Dum’s beer.

With a light smack at Steve’s hand, he turned and asked, “What are you going on about?”

Dum Dum smiled at Bucky, clearly delighted that someone was showing interest. “We should all get tattoos. Matching ones. The Howling Commandos!” He barked out a laugh before picking up his beer and polishing it off. “What do you think?”

Bucky laughed along with him. He _loved_ the idea.

“That’s fantastic!” he exclaimed. He turned to Steve, but his smile quickly faded at Steve’s horrified expression. “Well, I _was_ going to suggest you draw something, but I’m guessing you’re not on board?”

Steve waved a hand dismissively at Bucky, even if the look of alarm never left his eyes. “No, no. I’ll do it; I’ll draw something.” He gave a slight shudder that only Bucky would notice, and picked up his beer. “Just don’t ask me to get one.”

“Oh, come on, Cap!” Jim had entered the conversation at this point. “I’ve seen you jump off buildings and walk away. Please tell me you aren’t afraid of a little needle.”

Steve shrugged. “Just never been a fan of tattoos.”

Bucky smiled and shook his head, but didn’t say anything. He knew it was the needles. Steve had hated them ever since the serum. He never would talk about how painful the process had been.

“Draw it anyway, Cap,” Jim said, tipping his beer at Steve. “Then we’ll decide if you’re a fan. 

~~~~

Bucky had ‘died’ two days later.

~~~~ 

Steve’s apartment in the Avengers Tower was pretty barren for a guy who’d been back in the world for three years now. True, he’d been busy, to say the least, since he’d woken up, but Bucky thought Steve would have accumulated _some_ stuff since then. The only personal effects he seemed to have were a record player — state-of-the-art, thanks to Tony — some records, a computer, and a pile of sketchbooks.

The sketchbooks were what caught Bucky’s eye.

Most of them looked new, even if they were battered from use — sheets thick from pencil marks, corners frayed, and spines broken. But a few of them looked old, as though they’d been around since... _before._ There were even a couple that Bucky recognized, both from when they were kids and when they’d been in the war together.

He briefly wondered if Peggy had saved them. She and Steve had been sweet on each other, so it seemed only natural she’d have kept them for sentimental reasons. He wished he could thank her, but she was gone now...

He picked up one of the books and sat down on the edge of Steve’s bed. As he flipped through the various sketches, Bucky was reminded of just how _good_ Steve was as an artist. They’d spent so much time recently talking about the battles they’d fought, both together and after, he’d forgotten about this part of Steve.

It was as he was rifling through one of the old ones, though, that he found it. A memory.

A wolf, howling at the moon. Steve’s shield. A name.

He ran his fingers along the letters scrawled across the bottom, and he was instantly transported back to that night. A ragtag band of soldiers, more beers than anyone wanted to own up to, and that visceral sense of camaraderie.

They hadn’t just been a military unit. They’d been a family.

~~~~

After a bit of research and a conversation with Tony, Bucky made an appointment for as soon as he could get in.

~~~~ 

Tests. Medical check-ups, to be exact.

Steve _hated_ check-ups. Because of his physiology, doctors couldn’t do the standard battery of tests and blood work that normal human beings went through. It also didn’t help that Steve’s doctors insisted he take his annual _four times a year_. He suspected they were waiting to see if the serum would eventually break down, but so far, he was still everyone’s favorite super-soldier.

The exercise portion of the tests never bothered him, but the needles... God, the needles they had to use were _huge_. Otherwise his body just pushed them out before they were finished drawing blood.

As he took the elevator up to his apartment, he shuddered at the memory of the day, only to have it give way to a different memory: That night in France. Sure, he’d told the guys he wasn’t a fan of tattoos, but it really had been the needles. He just couldn’t tell them that. He was supposed to be their captain, after all.

The elevator dinged his floor, and as the doors slid open, he was assaulted by the sound of gunfire coming from the television on the opposite wall. He could just make out the top of Bucky’s head over the back of the couch, watching what looked like two British police officers who’d gotten lost and stumbled upon a bad American action flick.

“What are you watching?” Steve asked as he made his way over to the couch, stopping right behind Bucky. He rested his fingers lightly against Bucky’s right shoulder, advertising his location. Bucky had the senses of a predator, always aware of his surroundings, but it was a pattern they’d established early on when he was still struggling with the Winter Soldier, and neither of them had broken the habit.

Bucky shook his head, his still-long hair brushing against Steve’s hand. “It’s called _Hot Fuzz_ , but I have no idea what’s going on. At first I thought it was a British comedy, but then there was murder and human sacrifices, and now these guys” — he waved his hand at the screen where the two men were diving behind a car — “think they’re in some movie called _Bad Boys_ and are trying to shoot their way out.”

Steve laughed. “Let me guess. Clint?”

“Got it in one.”

With another laugh, Steve walked around the couch and plopped down on Bucky’s right side. They watched the rest of the movie in relative silence, save for the occasional laugh from Bucky. The sound was still so rare, so precious, it made Steve’s heart clench every time he heard it, and he couldn’t help but chuckle himself.

As the credits began to roll, Steve turned to give Bucky a teasing smile. “You obviously understood more than you let on.”

Bucky shrugged and smiled back at Steve. “The end was funny. Even you laughed a little.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said, holding up his hands in mock defense. “I was laughing at _you_ laughing at the movie.” He let his hands fall and gave Bucky a small nudge. “You don’t smile enough,” he added quietly.

“I smile more when you’re around,” Bucky replied bluntly.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, to reassure Bucky he’d always be there, when a slight flash of color drew his eye to Bucky’s arm. Red lines, tinged in black, skittered unevenly across Bucky’s skin just under the sleeve of the faded blue t-shirt he wore.

“What...” Steve muttered as he lifted up the material. What he saw froze him to the spot.

It was a soft, grey-scale wolf howling against the moon. Only it wasn’t a moon; it was Steve’s shield in muted detail. Across the bottom, in hollowed-out black and red lettering, were the words ‘HOWLING COMMANDOS’.

It was the tattoo design Steve had drawn the night Bucky had died.

Steve’s chest tightened as he stared at the tattoo in awe. “When did you get this?” he asked quietly.

Bucky’s answer was just as quiet. “Started the movie right after I got back from the tattoo shop.”

“You mean you _just_ did this? Today?”

Smiling, Bucky took hold of the t-shirt with his metal hand and pulled it up to give Steve a better look. “I found your old sketchbooks. When I saw this drawing, I just figured...” He gave a slight shrug, but his blue eyes were sparkling. “What do you think?”

His gaze never leaving the tattoo, Steve slid his hand down Bucky’s arm, and took hold of his friend’s wrist. “I drew this the day I lost you, Buck."

“But you didn’t lose me,” Bucky pointed out. He let go of the t-shirt and turned his wrist, taking Steve’s hand in both of his own. “I’m not going anywhere. Not again.”

Steve laughed, more out of relief than anything. He knew Bucky was right. HYDRA wasn’t after either of them anymore, so there was no chance of Bucky being taken away from him. Plus, the silver lining that had come out of Dr Zola’s experiments on Bucky, as well as HYDRA’s, meant that Bucky’s physiology was almost identical to his. It was no easier to harm Bucky than it was to harm Steve.

The person who mattered most to him in the world, the one he thought he’d lost _twice_ , really would be with him until the end of the line.

Then a thought occurred to him. “Hey, how’d you get the ink to stay? Your body should have pushed it out.”

Bucky smiled sheepishly at him. “Yeah, well, I went to Tony first about it. He created a specialized kind of tattooing needle. It drives the ink deeper into the skin.” He reached back and rucked up his sleeve, gazing thoughtfully at the tattoo. “Then I had to have it tattooed over twice more, in quick succession, not only to get it to hold, but to get it to show up.”

Steve stared at Bucky, aghast. “Wait a second. Are you saying you had to have that tattooed on _three times_ today?”

Bucky looked up at Steve and slowly nodded.

Steve sat back against the couch and huffed, “Well, shit.”

“What?”

“We’re the last of the Howling Commandos, Buck,” Steve commented with a sigh. “We gotta stick together.”

“You hate needles, Steve.”

“I could handle a needle or two,” Steve said. He tried to find some sort of apprehension at the idea of getting a tattoo, but it just wasn’t there. Not after what Bucky had done for him. So, he squeezed Bucky’s hand and added, “If you’re there.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at Steve, but it couldn’t mask the excitement that was slowly coloring his expression. “I’ll be there. It takes eight hours, but I’ll be there.”

Steve smiled, not just at the idea of honoring his old comrades, but of doing this with Bucky — _his_ Bucky.

“Then I’m in. And besides, it’s only one day.” He let go just long enough to wrap an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “What’s that against the rest of our lives?”

**Author's Note:**

> ## The Howling Commandos Tattoo
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~~
> 
> Feel free to come play with me on tumblr at [stephrc79](http://www.stephrc79.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I promise I don't bite. Well, not unless you ask nicely.


End file.
